Whipping Boys Anonymous
by Tanba Josav
Summary: Some fiction whipping boys get together to share their feelings and frustrations. Multiple character crossover.


Whipping Boys Anonymous  
  
DISCLAIMER: Because of laziness I'm not going to list all the various persons and companies that own the assorted characters that I'm going to write about. Take my word for it I don't own any of them I'm just playing with and counseling them for a while. No money will be made from this.  
  
...................  
  
A small select group of fictional characters were standing about a drafty old hall sipping coffee and sampling some biscuits. Some of the younger ones where quaffing the local beer and stealing the occasional pretzel from the table, as young people are wont to do at times.  
  
The leader of this group was fussing near the lectern at the front of the hall and, as the last of the stragglers wandered in, he glanced at his watch and decided it was time to start the night's proceedings. He pulled off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt before putting them back on again. He turned on the microphone and tapped it repeatedly until he had everyone's attention.  
  
"Um, thank you all. If you would please be seated we can begin," he waited until the group was settled before continuing. "I'd like to thank you all for coming and I can see some new faces here tonight." He smiled out at the crowd, happy at the turnout. "I see our reputation is spreading and as always I'm glad you all were able to come." He cleared his throat and nervously took a sip of water before continuing. "I'd like too officially start tonight's meeting of the WBA. That stands for Whipping Boys Anonymous and not the Women's Basketball Association as some of us here tonight think."  
  
At that point several long limbed women in sports clothing stood up, retrieved their basketballs, and slunk out of the room.  
  
"Yes well thank you for coming ladies." The man waited until they had left before continuing. "For the new people tonight I'd just like to briefly go over the reason why we are here. My name is Daniel and I am the nominated leader of this group. I started this movement almost a year ago when I felt the need to express my worries about how my character was being treated. Especially in what the cyberspace community like to call 'fanfics'. The fans seem to take great delight in beating me to within an inch of my life on a regular basis and quite frankly I'm sick of it."  
  
There was a chorus of 'here, here' from the crowd.  
  
"Then when I talked to some friends I found out that I wasn't alone. So I founded the WBA to give us an opportunity to come together, express our feelings and to help each other out."  
  
There was a smattering of applause about the room.  
  
"Well to start things off why don't some of the new faces introduce themselves," Daniel pointed to a well-dressed man in the front row. "You sir, why don't you come on up and tell us a bit about yourself. First name only please."  
  
The man looked around him. "Me?"  
  
"Yes, yes don't be shy." Daniel stepped away from the microphone indicating for the man to speak.  
  
The man stood up and buttoned his jacket before walking over to the lectern. "Well, um, my name is Fox," he loosened his tie. "And my character is an FBI agent."  
  
The group chorused back "Welcome Fox."  
  
"I'm always chasing alien conspiracies and the Government is constantly beating me up and trying to discredit me. Even my boss and my partner don't really believe in what I do. Actually my partner has shot me in the shoulder once can you believe that? If I can't trust my partner who can I trust?"  
  
"You can't trust no one, mate." A disembodied voice yelled out of the crowd.  
  
"That's right I can't," Fox seemed pleased at the response. "You don't know how good it is to finally be able to talk to someone about this."  
  
Daniel walked over to the FBI agent and clapped him on the shoulder. "You're very welcome Fox. Isn't he folks?"  
  
The group started clapping and whistling.  
  
"How about someone else?" Daniel looked about the room. "Anyone?"  
  
A bearded man in his thirties loped up to the microphone. "Hi my name is Marcus." He spoke with a strong British accent.  
  
The crowd waved back at him.  
  
"I'm a whipping boy and I'm glad to be here tonight. My character lived in outer space and had been chasing this woman for almost two years," Marcus started to become emotional. "And then just when I thought I might finally get some action, if you know what I mean, she gets mortally wounded and I had to give my life to save hers. How unfair was that? I died a virgin and I never even reached first base."  
  
An angry murmuring rose up from the audience. Marcus pulled out a hanky and cried into it. "Damn bastards, all of them."  
  
Daniel hugged Marcus and led him away from the lectern. "Let it all out my friend, we're here to help you." Daniel left the distraught man with some fellow WB's near the coffee urn and moved away.  
  
While Daniel had been consoling Marcus two men had walked up to speak from different ends of the room. They stopped before the lectern and looked at each other. One wore a long black coat and once had been described as having an angelic face. The other was in his early twenties and wore creamy pants and tunic underneath a dark brown robe. The older dark-haired man indicated for the other to go first. The younger man bowed slightly and turned to the microphone.  
  
"Hello. My name is Obi-Wan and I'd like to thank my friend Luke for telling me about this group," he waved to a sandy-haired man that wore a similar outfit in black, who was sitting in the audience. "I have felt for a long time now," Obi-Wan continued. "That I was alone with these feelings. You see my Master gets all the attention, especially from the chicks. All I get is beaten up, and if that's not bad enough then I have to be rescued by my Master. Like I can't take care of myself."  
  
Obi-Wan stopped talking and took a deep breath. "There is no anger," he murmured before continuing. "My Master is always bringing home some stray or another and who do you think has to clean up after them?" Obi-Wan slapped his chest hard. "I do that's who. And then he went and found this kid and suddenly I'm not important to him anymore. I'm so sick and tired of being that guy standing behind Qui-Gon Jinn. When will it be my turn?"  
  
Obi-Wan listened to the calls of reassurance from his fellow Whipping Boys before holding up a hand to gain their attention. "Thank you for listening to me tonight and I'm sure glad to have found you guys."  
  
As Obi-Wan stepped down he hugged the man to follow him and found his seat. A group of unusually attired men were bickering amongst themselves as the one with the angelic face cleared his throat into the microphone.  
  
"Hi I'm Angel and I'd just like to say I totally understand where Marcus is coming from. I, too, am in love with a girl. Her name is Buffy," he reached towards a pocket. "I've got a photo." Angel frowned when nobody rushed up to see it and continued. "Well she's the love of my life but because of a curse I can't be with her. What sort of creator would do that to a character?"  
  
"A complete bastard," Marcus shouted out before downing his drink and grabbing another bottle of scotch. "That's what sort."  
  
Angel watched as a couple of fellow WB's subdued the despondent Marcus.  
  
"Well," he continued after the room quieted down. "They gave me a spin off show to try and make it better but I'm still the brooding guy on the liquid diet who can never tan. I'm tired of always suffering for my past, I never asked to be a vampire. I hate working in the dark, it's full of scary people. Oh, that reminds me, thanks Daniel for moving the meeting to a nighttime slot. I really appreciate that." Angel rubbed his eyes in frustration. "I get beat up a lot too and because you can't technically kill me without a stake it gets pretty rough. I'm suffering for my art here," Angel sighed deeply. "Well that's all I have to say." He left the lectern to a small round of applause.  
  
Daniel moved over to the microphone. "Is that everyone?" He looked across to the strangely, and in the case of one of them garish and distastefully, dressed group. The eight men had spent most of the meeting huddled together talking and although their conversations had become heated, and even resulted in some halfhearted punches at times, they had mostly kept to themselves. Now though they had finally seemed to reach a consensus and had pushed one of their youngest members into the aisle.  
  
He glared at the others. "Fine I'll do it, shall I?" He straightened his cravat and flipped some lint from off his green frock jacket before walking forward.  
  
"Go get 'em." One of them, with an oversized scarf, encouraged.  
  
The group's representative reached the lectern and smiled down on the audience. "Well my name is the Doctor."  
  
He was interrupted by a loud sniff of disdain from the oldest member of his group.  
  
"Fine, we are the Doctor," the spokesDoctor corrected. "And we'd just like to say that we want more recognition for our efforts in constantly saving the universe. Is it asking too much for an occasional thank you, or a hug, or even some flowers?"  
  
"Vacation time," a white-haired Doctor with a velvet smoking jacket stood up and shouted.  
  
"Yes a nice holiday on occasion wouldn't go astray too." The Doctor continued on his tirade. "Between the eight of us we've been doing this 'save the universe' lark for over a millenium. Next time we say we're going on a holiday let us get there instead of diverting us to some planet in dire need of saving."  
  
The other young Doctor stood up in his cricketing gear. "What about compo?"  
  
"Good point. We want some sort of compensation scheme for damages to life and limb. Do you think it's easy to be a hero out there in the universe? I especially am weary of getting beaten to within an inch of my life every time some fan opens one of my books."  
  
There was exuberant applause from the other Doctors and the spokesDoctor beamed with joy. "Well I don't know about you lot but I feel much better now, thank you." He reached into a pocket and produced a small white paper bag. "Anyone fancy a jelly baby?"  
  
There was a surge towards the stage and Daniel felt the need to fight his way towards the microphone. "Well on that note I think we'll call it a night, shall we? Please feel free to stay behind for some coffee and biscuits and by all means talk amongst yourselves and help each other with your problems. Thank you and good night till next time." Daniel turned off the microphone and made his way towards the coffee urn.  
  
He was halfway there when he ran into one of the founding members of the WBA.  
  
"Arnold, how are you tonight?" he asked the sad little man with an 'H' stuck to his forehead.  
  
"How do you think?" Arnold replied in his usual voice of gloom. "I've been trying to organise a slide show night but do you think anyone is interested? Guess how many people are going. Go on guess."  
  
"I don't know," Daniel replied with resignation knowing that Arnold would tell him in excruciating detail just how many and why that was unacceptable.  
  
"None. Not a sausage. Are you interested?"  
  
"Sorry Arnold I'm busy that night." Daniel jumped in quickly trying to avoid the possibility of attending.  
  
"But I haven't even told you when it is. Why is everyone trying to avoid this? What's wrong with a night of wonder viewing 20th Century telegraph poles?"  
  
"Honestly I'd love to come but work gets in the way."  
  
Arnold peered at Daniel. "Exactly what do you do?"  
  
"Oh archeology and some work for the military its all hush, hush."  
  
"No it's not. Everyone knows you go through that gate thingy every week on the tellie. It's not very secret."  
  
"Well if you knew why did you ask?" Daniel demanded angrily.  
  
"Just wondering what you'd say."  
  
Daniel sighed heavily through his nose. "Look I'd love to stay and chat," he lied. "But I must do the rounds. You know check up on everyone and all that. Lovely talking with you." He shook Arnold's hand and escaped after enduring a prolonged version of Arnold's patented salute.  
  
Daniel had made his way almost totally around the room before he spied who he was looking for.  
  
"Peter," he called out. "How are you?"  
  
The young dark-haired cop turned around and waved at Daniel. He started to make his way towards him and they met half way.  
  
"How's your father?" Daniel asked.  
  
"Still in my life." Peter replied with a touch of bitterness.  
  
"But I thought you were glad to be reunited him after all these years?"  
  
"Oh don't get me wrong I'm glad to have him back but honestly he's beginning to cramp my style. It's not easy having a Shaolin priest as a father."  
  
Daniel made some encouraging noises and waited for Peter to continue.  
  
"Every time we're in a fight he comes out of it totally unscathed. I'm getting hit and he just glides right through it making some arcane kung-fu moves and totally annihilating the opposition. Do you know he's dating my partner now? I can't keep a girlfriend and all the chicks are throwing themselves at his feet."  
  
"How are the 'fanfics' going?"  
  
"I'm getting creamed in those. One last week had me being tortured, what's the deal with that? Can't a guy get through one story without suffering for it? And if it's not physical torture its," the young man shuddered. "Angst!!"  
  
Daniel patted Peter on the back in sympathy. "You're preaching to the choir on that one my friend," Daniel slung a sympathetic arm across the young man's shoulders. "Let's go get plastered."  
  
With that the two turned and made their way towards the makeshift bar. 


End file.
